Bones 19.4 - Bones on Ice by Kathy Reichs

Author:Kathy Reichs [Reichs, Kathy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2015-06-29T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

In my dream, I was belly-sliding down a sheer precipice, fingers clawing but catching nothing but air. Below, a hollow-eyed Brighton Hallis was positioning herself to catch me, arms frozen to her sides. Above, two pairs of eyes were peering over the cliff’s edge, one green and one gray, both cold as a grave. A song floated from somewhere far off, blurry and indistinct.

As I edged into consciousness, the lyrics crystalized into Neil Young singing “Harvest Moon.” From my nightstand. A squint at my iPhone yielded two bits of information. It was damn early. Slidell didn’t care.

“What’s up, Doc?”

“Apparently I am.”

“The freeloader’s back from Russia. I’m meeting him for a chat. Any interest?”

“Give me fifteen.” I disconnected and rolled out of bed, shoulders suggesting that the previous night’s hot bath had been insufficient to placate overworked muscle groups. I popped two Advil and hurried to get ready.

Twenty minutes later, I climbed into what normally constituted a rolling biohazard zone. To my shock, Slidell’s Taurus was cleaner than I’d ever seen it. No trash. No fast food reinventing itself as mold. No reeking footwear.

“Wow. Spiffy floor mats. Someone die in here?”

“I also got a new eject button, if you have issues.”

I bit back a retort. Watched a pine tree air freshener do a trapeze act on the crossbar of the rearview mirror. The cloying spruce odor made my nose itch. But it beat the usual stench packing Slidell’s car.

“Did you reach out to Steele and Reynolds?” I asked.

“Boris and Natasha? Annoying as boils but harmless, especially him. Don’t see either as the doer.”

“James says Steele is a nasty piece of work. Timid on the outside, hard as nails at the core.”

“Motive?”

“She wanted Reynolds. And she wanted her shot at stardom.”

Slidell waggled his head, weighing the notion. “I could buy that the little mope could be a sleeper. But it don’t matter. They’re alibied up the wazoo.” Slidell made a left, an impatient gesture toward a pedestrian in the crosswalk. “All three claim they were together. Say they left the summit way before Hallis arrived.”

I described my encounter with Damon James and the wall. Left out the embarrassing tumble. My hallucinations of menace. “Maybe check James’s finances.”

“Gee, I never would have thought of that.”

Nope.

“I’m seeing him later. And I can assure you, the guy ain’t thrilled. Want to come?” Slidell’s idea of a peace offering?

I thought of the malignant green eyes. “Thanks. I’ll pass. Did you get the DNA samples?”

“Already delivered.” Slidell made another turn. We were now in a burgeoning hipster area called Third Ward. “And, while some of us were logging beauty sleep, I also called Catawhatsis.”

“To the literate, it’s Kathmandu. Capital of Nepal.”

“Right. I think they use tin cans and string for communication over there. Forty-eleven numbers and hours bouncing around, I finally connected to a constable in Lukla.”

“You actually phoned?”

“I like to hear a guy’s voice.”

Slidell’s skill set does not include the use of computers. He typically leans on subordinates to run prints or enter info into databases.

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